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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244723">Jackets &amp; Sweaters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone/pseuds/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone'>Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Comics, The Punisher - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Low Self-Esteem, Mentions of working out, light fluff, projecting insecurities into how other people act and speak, wearing uncomfortable clothes to hide one’s body</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:36:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone/pseuds/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You have no self-esteem. Frank wants to help you change that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle/Plus Size Reader, Frank Castle/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jackets &amp; Sweaters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>@youwerenevermeanttofeelalone on tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunny days, contrary to the effect they should have on human beings, distressed you. The shop you worked at was fuller in the afternoons when the sun shone brighter and the heat prompted people to hurry into the nearest place and buy something to drink. </p>
<p>Every day of the week had been the same — someone would stare longer than they should, then a completely different person would smile at you condescendingly while you served them their drinks, your boss would make a comment regarding your attire and how ridiculous it was for you to be wearing sweaters, and you would get home about to explode. </p>
<p>Your routine had been followed to the T up until you heard your neighbor greet you when you were about to unlock your apartment door. “Hey, (Y/N). How’s work going?”</p>
<p>“Hi, Frank,” you mumbled tiredly. “It’s going good.” </p>
<p>“I didn’t see you last week, I thought you were sick or...” he made an incoherent movement with his hand. </p>
<p>Shaking your head, you cleared your throat. “No, no. Just tired, you know how work is sometimes.” In all fairness, he probably didn’t know, and if you had to be completely honest you didn’t either — you said it because it sounded friendlier. </p>
<p>Humming, Frank leaned on the nearest wall to not disrupt the gradual flow of neighbors getting home from work or school. “The sweaters and jackets made me assume you were battling a cold.” </p>
<p>“They’re for precaution,” you explained, playing with your keys by spinning the keyring on your finger. “The changes in temperatures at work are dangerous.”</p>
<p>Catching his eyes on your outfit, you straightened your back. Wearing layers was a comfort you weren’t ready to let go, they weren’t ideal in such weather conditions, but they made you feel less exposed and that was enough. </p>
<p>“You know I can tell you’re lying, right?”</p>
<p>His gaze hardened when you opened your mouth, challenging you to make up another excuse. Said excuse died in your throat. “You want some coffee?” </p>
<p>Frank accepted, pushing the side of his body off the wall as you unlocked your door. He followed you toward the kitchen where he took a seat at the table. He had visited multiple times, you were one of the few people in the building who wasn’t scared of him and he had to admit he often took advantage of it by stopping by or making small talk. </p>
<p>Huffing a laugh when you handed him a novelty cup filled with steamy coffee, he nodded thankfully and took a gulp. You had made coffee for him enough times to memorize the way he liked it. The beverage was perfect, both in taste and temperature. </p>
<p>Placing the mug down, Frank lifted his eyebrows. “Are you tellin’ me what’s bothering you?”</p>
<p>You rubbed the back of your neck, applying pressure with your fingers. “It’s... I’m just tired.” Frank glared at you. Withdrawing your palm off your neck, you took a seat to his right.  You winced when your voice lowered to a whisper upon starting your explanation, “tired of a lot of things. You wouldn’t get it.”</p>
<p>“Is your manager being an asshole?” </p>
<p>You shook your head. </p>
<p>“Did a customer do something to you?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Frank leaned his forearms onto the table, tilting his head in a mix of confusion and worry. “What’s wrong, (Y/N)? I hear you taking showers at 2:00 a.m., I see you wearing layers of clothes when everyone would go out naked if possible...”</p>
<p>“I feel comfortable like that.”</p>
<p>“Not sleeping and sweating your ass off with sweaters under the sun?”</p>
<p>You poked your cheek, nibbling on the insides. Frank’s determination to make you talk didn’t waver, you would’ve been naive to expect otherwise. “I work out at night, with YouTube videos. I take a shower after that. And—” making a pause, breathing in deeply, you cocked your head to the side in search of the words. How does one explain their mental health depends on them wearing winter clothes? The last thing you needed was to be mocked. “The clothes hide my body,” you said through your teeth, opening your mouth as little as humanly possible.</p>
<p>Relieved, Frank nodded enthusiastically. He dragged the cup toward him and curling his fingers around the handle, told you, “if that’s what makes you happy, it’s okay.”</p>
<p>Frowning, you leaned forward onto the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>Shrugging, he held the mug near his mouth. “If you like hiding your body and working out at that hour, if you feel good, it’s okay.” Frank mumbled then, with the rim of the cup touching his lips, “but if you don’t feel good you should stop doing it.”</p>
<p>Such an easy thing for lean people to say. When would Frank be stared at as a freak in the streets? Who would stare weirdly at him while shopping? It was obvious he had never been under the pressure of eating in a public place where everyone could and would judge. </p>
<p>“I’ll stop when I look fine.”</p>
<p>“So now?”</p>
<p>“No, Frank.” </p>
<p>Standing up, you walked toward the cupboard. Picking a glass, you filled it with water. You drank it through small sips, hoping it would help calm the nausea you were starting to feel. You hated speaking about those things. </p>
<p>Frank put the mug down the sink, watching you. “Why not?”</p>
<p>“People stare.”</p>
<p>He conceded, “everyone stares at everything for multiple reasons.  Mostly clothes or hair, maybe they’re checking them out or wondering where they bought that backpack. It’s not always bad—“</p>
<p>“I know it’s bad,” you interrupted him, tightening your grip on the glass. “If I do it, it’s obvious other people do it too.”</p>
<p>“See, that’s the problem.” </p>
<p>You didn’t appreciate his gruff tone. Putting the glass down before you could cause an accident, you told him, “it’s okay. Now you’ll stop asking.”</p>
<p>But Frank didn’t stop asking. He grew more observant as the days went by, as though you needed to be watched like a child. It bothered you. He wasn’t even hiding it, he would knock on your door in the morning with the excuse of not wanting to eat breakfast alone —you knew very well he enjoyed being alone for the majority of the time— or he would be waiting for you when you got home from work to ask about your day. He always stared, checking your outfit out. The outfit never changed. </p>
<p>The days were getting warmer and your mood worse. Now people stared harder, you were the crazy person in a sweater while people rocked their sundresses and tank tops. So you gave up trying to hide your torso, tired of feeling like you would die out of dehydration over how much you were sweating. </p>
<p>Frank didn’t hide his shock when he saw you wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he didn’t comment on it in the morning. When you got back from work he did, mostly because you had put a light jacket on. </p>
<p>“I thought you had ditched the jacket.”</p>
<p>You merely shook your head, sliding the key in and turning it as fast as you could. You didn’t know why it affected you so much when you couldn’t change it, but you wished you could stop the stares and how judgmental they felt. Frank’s hard gaze on you wasn’t helping your case. </p>
<p>He stopped you from closing the door on his face, holding the edge of the door with a hand. His eyes never left your face, but the harshness turned into worry as he got a better look at your semblance. You gave up, letting him do whatever he wanted as you dropped your keys onto the nearest table. </p>
<p>“Bad day?”</p>
<p>“Shitty day,” you clarified.</p>
<p>Frank closed the door behind him. “Can I help with anything?”</p>
<p>You shook your head, aware of his unwavering attention being focused on you. </p>
<p>“What’s wrong this time?”</p>
<p>Looking down at your shoes, you made a mental note of changing the laces for cleaner ones. They were getting dirty too quickly for your liking, but it was expected with how unclean the streets were. “Same old.”</p>
<p>“People staring?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Well, no. I’m the problem.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>You snapped your head in his direction to glare at him. “First of all, that’s not helpful. Second of all, I don’t need my friends to treat me like other people do.”</p>
<p>Taking a seat beside you as he exhaled a long sigh, Frank grumbled an apology. “I thought you were finally accepting you’re too harsh on yourself.”</p>
<p>“I’m not harsh enough.”</p>
<p>“Bullshit.” He shook his head energetically. “You think the worst of yourself and put words in other people’s mouths and heads. That’s harsh.”</p>
<p>“I know what they’re thinking, Frank. I think those things too, no one wants to be fat, or ugly!”</p>
<p>“That’s ridiculous, you’re not ugly. And who cares about your body type? That’s your business.” He shook his head again, letting out a bittersweet chuckle. “You’re so stubborn... look, it’s great to want to be the best version of yourself but that’s not what you want. You want to be what you think you should be. That’s bullshit. It’s harmful. You deserve better.”</p>
<p>Coughing down the lump forming in your throat, you mumbled, “I don’t know better.” Frank tilted his head in search of an explanation. “This is the best I can do. I’m not great at most things. Everyone was born with a talent, everyone but me. I guess.”</p>
<p>“Y’know,” his voice softened, “I have a friend, Curtis, he might be able to help. We could give him a call, he’s helped a lot of vets and people who feel lost...”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to be a bother. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>Frank put his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug. “You’re everything but a bother. I want to help. I’m going to help.”</p>
<p>Frank tensed up when you hugged him back. You were about to pull away when his arm tightened around you. His body slowly relaxed. </p>
<p>You asked, ashamed of how annoying you were being, “What if I’m a lost cause?”</p>
<p>“You’re not,” Frank quickly assured you. “Everything will be okay.”</p>
<p>❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎ </p>
<p>You were afraid of being late for your session, stuck between wearing the brown or the black jacket. The pouring rain would already ruin your chances of getting there ten minutes early like you had gotten used to do it. Picking the thickest one so you wouldn’t get sick, you held your wallet with your mouth as you slid the jacket on while crossing the living room. </p>
<p>Life was finally in your favor. You found a cab quickly and got there in time. Happy to see you, Curtis warmly smiled at you as he greeted you. </p>
<p>Turns out Frank had been right. Curtis helped, openly and with the patient only a saint would have; you weren’t a lost cause; you weren’t a bother; everything would be okay.</p>
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